Operation Remus Lupin
by november shivers
Summary: Full title: Operation Remus Lupin and the Consequences of Celia Vane's Other Intelligent Endeavours. Shortish five part Halloween fic. Slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Operation Remus Lupin (and the Consequences of Celia Vane's Other Intelligent Endeavours)  
**Pairing:** Sirius/Remus  
**Warnings:** Made-up characters. Language, sexual references. (I sound so professional!)  
**Summary:** First in a five part Halloween story. (This part 2,421 words)  
**Disclaimer:** Only the plot is mine. Oh yeah, and Celia. Lucky me.  
**Author's Note** I've been working on this for quite awhile, but I never like to post things that aren't completely finished, so I waited until I was done to put this up. Therefore, the next few parts will be posted in the week before Halloween. I'm actually pretty proud of this, so hopefully you won't get too sick of the constant updates. xD;; ALSO, I'D LIKE TO THANK MEGAN FOR BEING AWESOME AND KEEPING ME FROM CONSTANTLY SWITCHING THE NAMES AROUND. THANKS MEGAN. O:

-

Wind tugs at pale blonde hair, the veil she's using to mask her stare as her eyes expertly follow the two figures on the edge of the lake. She makes another mark on her parchment, shifts her position, and smoothes her skirt across her thighs. This rock was obviously never meant to be used as a bench. And someone like Celia Vane was not meant to be sitting on it to watch two boys who, as far as she can tell, aren't doing anything out of the ordinary.

Only it isn't what they're doing that's supposed to be interesting. It's who they are. Or at least who one of them is.

And _that_ one is named Sirius Black.

Celia Vane has been the head of the Sirius Black fan club since her fourth year, when she was first nominated for the position, ousting Abigail Hood from her former place - even though the other girl was three years older. Of course, Abigail was furious, but, as Celia always chimes, the people _do_ have a right to choose. And Celia is a much better leader than that chubby-faced Abigail could've ever been, anyway.

Celia has plenty of proof, too. She's had three anonymous bake sales, all extremely successful (you'd never know how eager people could be to support a cause when they have no idea what it is). She's cleverly introduced people to Sirius who've never had the courage to speak to him before, using methods like note-passing and Quidditch scrimmages. She's doubled the club's popularity (although, she has to admit, that might have something to do with Sirius increasing in age and reputation as he went from a charming fourth year to a positively _dashing_ seventh year), and even lured in quieter girls who were practically unaware that _this is where they belong_.

And most importantly, after three years of her loving autocracy, the club's existence is still a complete secret, which is, of course, one of the major goals of every fan club ever to go through Hogwarts. It's still important for every girl with the intention of dating Sirius to be seen as the "pursued" rather than the "pursuer", no matter how many times they dig things out of wastepaper baskets. And fortunately, to the male population, the club is nothing more than a sneaking suspicion.

But despite all her devotion, tonight, Celia would still rather be sending someone else out on a so-called "Sirius Stalk". It's hopelessly dull - she can't see anything, and without much to gossip about, or even a good view, these things aren't nearly as exciting. Normally she sends the younger members out to report back to her and leaves the more important Stalks, like Quidditch matches, for herself. But tonight she happened to stumble upon him, and, well, old habits die hard. She rearranges her hair again, but it doesn't matter because the sky is growing dark; no one can see her, and she can't see anything but hazy outlines of black and brown. She hates autumn - it always makes her feel old and tired, aching muscles and fading tan lines as the days grow shorter and shorter. Everything is dead.

As she watches, a tall shadow that she knows to be Sirius (_because_, she thinks sarcastically, _she's been sitting on a goddamn stone for an hour to watch him_) skips stones across the lake, occasionally turning to speak to his companion, who seems to actually believe that he is reading, although it's clearly too dark to see the words.

She can't hear anything of the conversation from where she is sitting, either, on a chunk of granite that's nearly halfway across the lake from where they are. Maybe they aren't even talking. Really, her Astronomy homework is more interesting than they're being right now, which is definitely saying a lot. She glances down dubiously. _Name this moon phase_. Honestly. Who really cares?

Celia scrawls her way through the homework, for the most part, making up whatever pops into her head. When the wind picks up again, she's too busy pinning her parchment down to even notice that a paper with a list of potential club members has escaped her school bag - and when she does, she doesn't have the energy to go pick it up. It's cold and she's tired and if she shifts her position the wind will find all places of her that aren't desperately clamped together.

She really doesn't care about some stupid scrap of parchment anyway. She has other copies.

"Is this yours?"

It would be nice, of course, (and much more romantic) if it was Sirius, but it's only the friend. Remus. The sickly one. He's standing at an arm's distance, and she snatches the paper from his pale hand before he even starts to move away. He doesn't look back at her. Which is really less attention than she deserves from him. Honestly. Sometimes she wishes the club wasn't so much of a secret, if it meant she'd get a little more respect around here.

"Thanks," she says, belatedly, and Remus halfway turns with an awkward smile before hurrying off again.

She crosses her arms across her chest and watches as he strolls back the way he came. She should've been paying more attention. Apparently he and Sirius had migrated from one side of the lake to the other as the evening dragged on, and the books Remus was using previously sit rejected for the new ones, taken to a place where Sirius can more easily torture the squid.

Then Sirius is striding by with his cloak draped carelessly over his shoulders, and Celia doesn't even have a chance to say anything to him because he's too busy murmuring to that damn Remus. Celia gathers her books.

That was, of course, going to be the end of it. This would be all there was to this particular stalk, and Celia would go back to the dorm, cold and bad-tempered - except she raises her eyes one last time to watch them go, staring after the pair as they meet up a few feet after they pass her, all bent heads and murmured words - _intimacy_. And there's something off about that.

Remus' mouth moves and Sirius starts smirking. Celia knows she shouldn't be wondering if he's sniggering about her (she's way too confident for that), but she does anyway. Something peculiar sends a strange sort of warmth down her spine, and she stares, transfixed, until they blend into the dusk.

And suddenly, Celia starts to think there might be more to this than she saw before. Like all of Celia's plans, it's fully organized before she's even thought it out completely.

It's time for the next club meeting.

-

The water glitters, the sun melting into the clouds in big splashes of sunset pastels. Everything seems to have that bittersweet taste of last, sour in the air and in each stone that Sirius feeds the lake. The last autumn (brilliantly bright leaves dying peacefully, swirling to the ground in gusts of cool wind) at Hogwarts, the last precious year of maps and crimson curtains and _Gryffindor_. Remus is painfully aware of all of it, like the way Sirius seems somehow _off_ tonight, skidding rocks across the lake and towards the squid's tentacles because he knows it makes Remus wary.

He wonders if he feels it too, but now doesn't seem like an appropriate time to ask. So Remus just watches him, discreetly, through his eyelashes (he's perfected his subtlety), and turns a page in the textbook he isn't really reading, because it's dark and dusty and he can't see the tiny print - only the dark outline of Sirius' body in the cool sunset, and because he's squinting away Remus misses the last, record-breaking throw, stone hopping victoriously across the cold water.

It gets chilly early at Hogwarts, but September is still too soon for thick jumpers, really, and he's uneven with too much warmth under his robes, the cold numbing his hands and nose.

Sirius is a champion rock-skipper.

"Did you see that? _Twenty-five_," he boasts, "We ought - we ought to get James out here again for a rematch again." He picks up a few more rocks from the pile he's collected at his feet, "Or you could throw some, but you know, you never actually seem to try very hard."

The last time Remus tried skipping rocks he remembers Sirius' breath on the back of his neck, the arm snaked around his waist to demonstrate form, and his pebble plopping pathetically into the dark water.

"I think I'll pass," he says dryly, raising his eyebrow and shaking his head at the book as if the fault is somehow somewhere in the text. Maybe it is. Potions has always been the one class he detests.

For a moment Sirius looks like he's going to say something else. He stares at the stone in his hands while Remus stares at Sirius, but then he stops, turns back towards the lake, and violently flings the last flat stone over the water. Only seventeen skips, this time.

Sometimes they have this, now, the heavy awkwardness that came when they started pretending everything is back to normal (even though _everything_ obviously _isn't_). A stretch of time that was clogged eyelashes and loneliness is barely behind them, when Sirius finally did the worst thing he could ever do. When Remus realized that he wasn't as forgiving as he'd thought he was, when the pieces stopped fitting so very well.

Remus forgave Sirius' prank with little production, returning with quiet acceptance, sliding his chair back next to Sirius' in the library, then in the common room. Now they're talking again. Small steps. Slow, but still something. Sirius may feel elated, but Remus still sees the problems; they spend far too much time trying to make everything go back to being the same.

But things aren't the same, as Remus points out when Sirius pauses to clear his throat before continuing on with plans for snowball fights and complicated pranks. Because hearing Sirius go on about this is almost as painful as to hear him talk about girls.

"James doesn't have the same kind of time anymore," Remus interrupts slowly, fingers creeping to compulsively smooth out the imperfect crease in his book. "He's head boy."

Sirius waits almost as long as Remus did before answering, and Remus keeps fidgeting with that paper, forever creased in imperfection after someone carelessly shut it on a bent page.

"Oh, sorry. I wasn't _aware_ of that," Sirius mocks, rolling his eyes - because James hasn't shut up about being a head with Lily Evans since he got the badge. Sirius still seems to be swallowing words, and Remus can see that he's looking over the lake instead of towards him. "Don't be so depressing," he says instead, complete with a kick to the ground and a bitter laugh, "Not everything changes, Moony."

Remus only shrugs, turns back to the paper.

As the time passes, he huddles closer within himself, locking his arms around each other, and suddenly he realises that he's shivering. They still aren't talking about it, which is fine, because all throughout his life, Remus thinks he must have become a world-class expert at Not Talking About It.

Sirius coughs and Remus wonders if he could probably earn some award for this, avoiding everything that needs to be said, because he's only tempted to say, "_It's getting dark earlier, huh?_", except that he already has.

But Remus can't fight the clattering teeth, and before he can stop himself Sirius is tossing him his cloak and shuffling back through the tall grass (still ragged and wild, oblivious to the coming chill). "Let's go inside, then," he mumbles, "Oh - get your stuff." They'd migrated closer to the castle when a girl had taken their usual spot, and Remus walks towards where she's sitting. He's gathering the books when he notices a paper on the ground that isn't his, crumpled and stained by dirt. He picks it up, turns it over, and frowns at the blonde girl a few feet away.

"Is this yours?" he asks, stepping closer to her. Her expression is odd, and she immediately jerks the paper away as if she's somehow been offended.

It's almost as awkward as it was with Sirius. Remus starts to turn away.

"Thanks," she sniffs, and Remus mumbles something like "sure" or "'welcome" in response over his shoulder and takes a few quick steps to return to Sirius, waiting by the lake and staring past him towards the girl.

"Who is that?" Sirius wonders, "It's so fucking dark."

"Caroline Vane," Remus responds, proud to actually know her name, because all the females at the school have always seemed to blend together to him. "She dropped something."

In the bleak darkness, he discerns a nod while Sirius taps a light to his wand and starts walking. Remus struggles to keep close, because he's too cold to bother removing his hands from his pocket and perform his own _lumos_. Leaves crunch beneath their shoes as they head back towards the courtyard.

"Strange to see her all by herself like that," Sirius comments suddenly, something mischievous lurking in his tone. He hasn't even bothered to put his cloak back on. "You'd think she was hoping someone would talk to her."

"Hm." Remus watches the ground in front of him, seeping reluctantly into the wand's light. Only the few steps in front of them are visible - the spell must be weak. Remus doesn't like it when Sirius gets like this. "What are you on about?" he asks finally, careful to keep any real interest out of his voice.

Sirius shrugs casually. "You know. Celia. She's pretty gorgeous, right? Maybe she fancies me."

Remus relaxes a bit, and then nearly stumbles over a tree root. "Do you?" (Just because he's used to this.) "Want her, I mean."

"I might," Sirius says, and just like that, the conversation seems to lose any value it might've had. Remus breathes warmth into his hands, stiff with the cold, and shrugs noncommittally as they turn into the courtyard.

"Good luck with that, then."

Sirius smirks, "Oh, you know I don't need - Oi, Prongs!" A boy turns towards them, a familiar face with large glasses and slim nose, but Remus can't really be glad to see him, can't be glad to go inside to warmth and the feast.

He's sort of lost his appetite.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Operation Remus Lupin (and the Consequences of Celia Vane's Other Intelligent Endeavours)  
**Pairing:** Sirius/Remus  
**Warnings/Disclaimer:** Refer to chapter one.  
**Author's Note:** Thanks so much for the reviews! Please keep writing them, it means a lot to me to know what you're thinking!

-

The dormitory is the same one the girls had when they were eleven, nervous and bashful and a whole lot tidier than they are now. But with being a seventh year comes a few useful perks, including an expansion charm and all the more room for the girls sharing the dormitory to spread their rubbish. Most of them, Celia included, their own full-length mirrors. They also have a painting that looks like something classic, but isn't, and several lounge chairs. Unfortunately said chairs are too cluttered by books, junk food, half-finished essays, and letters from home to actually be of use to anyone who doesn't want to spend quite a few hours clearing them off.

So when the hastily-planned meeting finally comes around on a cold and rainy night, everyone finds her own place to sit. Agatha chews her nails. Deborah sits with her legs crossed, her right foot jiggling back and forth with impatience (or possibly boredom). They are seated on Celia's bed, along with the other chief club members, Bertha, Agnes, and Glenda (who won't let anyone sit on _their_ beds), while the younger girls are cramp together on the carpet.

Each and every one of them is looking at Celia.

"So," she says, unfolding an unnecessary list and feeling very superior from her own separate space in the middle of the room, "Welcome back to school, right?"

Silence. Some nameless first year sneezes, and the few girls next to her edge slowly away. Everyone else continues staring at Celia expectantly. Maybe a bit warily.

She blinks back at them and sighs.

Oh, what the _hell_?

"Right," she snaps, ruthlessly crumbling the parchment and tossing it to the floor, "Bertha, where are my Ravenclaws? Did they get the owls or not?" Celia turns to pace back and forth across the dorm, kicking magazines and spare clothing out of her path as she walks (although she resists striking the faces of first years, wide-eyed and trembling).

"Well - I'm not really sure. That Bagshott girl said she had to talk to Mafalda…And someone else, Rita I think, said they thought they were coming, but they didn't know for sure because…something or other…" Bertha trails off hopelessly, avoiding Celia's eyes.

Before Celia can retort, Deborah makes a huffing sound that somehow breaks the brief spell of awkwardness. "Well Bertha, since you kind of made _yourself_ in charge of gathering everyone here, I don't see why you can't at least do it right."

"God! Can no one just answer Celia's question?" Glenda interjects. Celia's too busy glaring icily at Bertha to look up, but her whiney tone is unmistakable.

"Why don't you shut up?"

"Why don't _you_ shut up?"

This is typical for the majority of the Sirius Black meetings. There's always something to bicker about, whether it's who's responsible for what, who should go on the best Stalks, or simply who's a whore and who isn't. Generally, sides are quickly taken over their usual concerns, and the sixth and seventh years end up arguing for the greater half of the hour while the younger girls sit around looking like they want to kill themselves. Celia loves every minute of it.

But finally, Agatha silences them all. She's good at this. Celia sometimes suspects that Agatha might actually be the only one of them with an ounce of intelligence - besides herself, of course. But perhaps Agatha being Celia's closest friend and the club's vice president has something to do with that opinion.

"We don't need the Ravenclaws right now. I'll send them an owl with some notes." Agatha's clipboard is already ready. Celia beams back at her, but Glenda glares resentfully at her lap and nastily mumbles something to Agnes that Celia doesn't catch (Agatha does, however, and her smile fades a bit).

Celia is pleased. They've settled down much more rapidly than usual, which means they might get something done - for once. "Alright, so, I have a new idea for this year," she finally continues, tossing her hair carelessly over her shoulder, "But I'm not sure how well it will work. We'll need a lot of research…involving, you know, undercover investigations. And such." She's lowering her voice, which doesn't exactly make sense because they already soundproofed the room. But every girl's head leans closer anyway, eyes shining with interest, mouths shaping into little _o_'s.

She has their full attention now.

Celia takes a deep breath and is surprised to feel it shaking with something like nervousness. This is, after all, a big step for the club. If the other girls don't like the idea, all of Celia's planning will go to waste. Plus, she'll feel quite stupid. Celia Vane does not like feeling stupid. She clears her throat twice before continuing.

"With that Remus Lupin fellow, you know. I think we can use him to get information about Sirius. I mean, we've asked him basic questions before, but he always just sort of avoided them, probably because we didn't _know_ him. You know? We have to befriend him this time.

"And I was thinking, well, if we really get to know Remus' personality, we could er. Polyjuice him or something? It might be a bit difficult. Which is why we needed the Ravenclaws. Anyway, that way we could talk to Sirius like one of his friends. It could open up a brand new set of possibilities."

The room is filled with a thoughtful silence. Even Deborah's foot has stopped jiggling.

"But wouldn't Peter be easier to manipulate?" Agatha wonders, pausing in her furious scrawling.

"He would be, but he doesn't spend much one-on-one time with Sirius. You know? We'll definitely have to try if Operation Remus doesn't work out, though." Celia is quite satisfied with the reaction, and soon, her breathing returns to normal. _Operation Remus_. It's already got capital letters in her head. It already has promise.

"I'll look up some of the books he's reading for you, Celia," Agnes says helpfully.

"Yeah. And we'll try to get a tutoring session booked, too. He does that, right? For Defence?"

It's actually going to happen. Celia can barely contain her excitement, and she has to run her fingers through her glossy hair several times to keep herself from squealing.

She almost misses it when someone makes a comment that stills the room into stony silence:

"Wait. Why Remus? _Why not James_?"

The room is quiet. Rain continues to pound against the windows in heavy sheets. Thunder cackles in the distance.

"James?" Celia hisses, her head snapping to glare at the speaker. It's a fourth year, no wonder. Or a third year, possibly? "_James_?" she repeats. Other members of the club start making similar noises of distress.

"…Well, _he_'s Sirius' best mate, right? If we-"

Celia breathes in, breathes out. Tries to calm herself down. Again. "Darling," she says, slowly, condescendingly (but she can't help it if she doesn't know the girl's name), "the James Potter Fan Club is no longer made up of our allies, and therefore-"

"They're all pretty much sluts," Glenda interrupts.

"- therefore we cannot expect them to recognise our mission without…without interference. And anyway, James is too stupid to even attempt to imitate; that may turn out to be part of the plan. With Remus all we'd have to do is say some big words now and then. Generally we can just be quiet and, you know, flip through some book or something. It'll be easy."

"I was thinking I could try talking to him first, you know," she adds, when the younger girl has finally realised that it's wiser just to keep her mouth shut, "And if it works out someone else could give it a try. So. Any questions?"

"You'll be great, Celia," Glenda coos. Everyone ignores her.

"Right. I'll owl you all the next time I've made some progress, and we'll have another meeting. Agatha, work on those Ravenclaws. Bertha, start planning the bake sale. Oh and Deborah, pass around the Stalking schedule - I can't deal with any of you anymore."

And with all of her usual flair, Celia stands up and leaves the room before Glenda can follow her with lavish compliments. She bites back her smile until the door is closed firmly behind her.

That had gone surprisingly well.

-

Celia has never been very good at note-taking.

So far she has:

_sleepy  
careful  
intelligent  
"tortured artist" ("poetic", maybe?)  
approachable, yet distances himself (what?)  
only seems truly comfortable within his group of "Marauders"_

It isn't all that much, and it isn't like it isn't anything she didn't already know. With Sirius it isn't so hard, because all she has to do is go on about flawless biceps and perfect hair for about an hour while angrily wishing that his friends would just _get out of the way_. But Remus, she's beginning to learn, is difficult. He isn't particularly outstanding. Brown hair, brown eyes. Numerous scars, the two most obvious across his nose and jaw bone. He seems a bit on the short side, but then again, that could just be in comparison to Sirius, who is clearly a model of male stature.

Celia pries her eyes away from Sirius to again study Remus, who is seated with his usual friends in their usual corner of the library.

Remus likes to read. He seems to enjoy homework. Using a few dependable connections, she's also found out that his love life is practically non-existent.

Frankly, he seems a bit boring. From the opposite side of the room it's hard to tell what he's even doing. Besides studying. She wonders if she could slip by the group and pretend to get a book.

Because slowly strolling by groups of gentlemen "to get a book" is one of her specialties, the next thing she knows, Celia is pressed behind the bookshelf adjacent to them and stealthily listening in on the conversation as she "scans the shelves". 

Unfortunately, Remus isn't much more interesting to listen to than he is to than he is to look at. He and his friends continue to study for the upcoming History of Magic exam. Well, Remus is studying, at least. James might be working a bit, but it's painfully obvious, even from the other side of the room, that he's more interested gaining the attention of a certain redhead (who Celia isn't actually too fond of, as she's part of that annoying group of girls who seem to think they're more intelligent than the rest of the world) at the table beside them. Sirius doesn't seem to really care, and Peter is nearly hyperventilating as he urgently flips through the dusty pages.

"…have to know about that troll woman getting beheaded?" He's asking, nearly every word accompanied by a fluttering of paper.

"Possibly. I think you're thinking of the goblin, though. In 1537?" Remus reminds him patiently, although it sounds like they've been over this several times already. The test is tomorrow.

"I'm going to die," Peter moans.

"Hm? Bugger," says James brightly. Another page turns.

"Who cares if a woman gets beheaded if she's a bloody goblin?" _Sirius_. Celia wishes she had her quill and parchment so that she could write all of his words down.

But this isn't a Sirius Stalk. This is a Getting to Know Remus…Outing. First, she has to determine the best strategy of approaching him. Just so that she doesn't end up sounding completely stupid when she tries to bond with him over similar interests she hasn't actually discovered they had yet.

"She was a queen, too," Remus points out, but his words seem to go unheard by everyone but Celia, because James seems to have suddenly decided that history is not what they should be talking about at all.

"Yes, women _are_ important, Moony. Are you two going to help plan that autumn festival with us? Before the Quidditch match?"

What autumn festival? Celia hasn't heard anything about an autumn festival - although she assumes the question is directed towards Peter and Remus.

"What autumn festival?" asks Peter.

"It's going to be great. A bonfire. And Firewhiskey. Oh yeah, costumes too, or something. The girls are planning that."

"Hey, yeah, but that was scheduled for the _twenty-second_," Sirius says, and his voice emphasises these last few words as if they're important. His voice lowers a bit, and Celia doesn't catch the next thing he says - but it sounds something like "in bloom". "He already won't see the match."

"It'll probably be fine by then," Remus says, lowering his own voice. His tone is strange: half apology, half defiance.

"_Probably_."

"We can always change the date, Sirius," James says quickly, "Just as long as there are dates involved. And not the kind you eat, either."

This is another reason the James Potter fan club is deranged. Who could _possibly_ swoon over blokes who make such terrible puns? What kind of sense of humour did they have, anyway? But the other three boys don't even seem to notice (except for Peter, who chuckles mechanically). Maybe they're all just used to it.

"It's a lost cause, mate," says Sirius. There is a scraping of chairs, but it must not be from their table, because Sirius keeps talking. "It's going to be a bit difficult for you to keep chasing after Evans when you're responsible for half of the drinks."

"But it's supposed to be that kind of event. Apparently there used to be a ball all the seventh years went to, but they stopped having it because everyone kept sneaking off to get pissed and shag each other," James argues.

"Then they had the right idea. No one plans these kinds of things ahead."

"Well, you could always ask that blonde girl to go with you," Remus offers hesitantly. "She just went behind that bookshelf."

Celia instinctively leaps backwards, yanking _The Encyclopaedia of Fairies_ from the shelf. Getting caught eavesdropping is the last thing she needs right now. She clutches the heavy volume to her chest, holding her breath.

Suddenly, part of her really hates Remus. And part of her absolutely adores him.

"Maybe I will," Sirius says, but he doesn't move, and there's a strange, awkward shuffling of papers on the other side of the shelf.

"Well, I'm going to go ask Professor Binns about that beheading question. I'll meet up with you all later." It's Remus, and he's mumbling. She hears his chair slide away from the table and the sound of a book falling closed.

James gives a half-hearted _au revoir_. Peter must be too busy cramming to even notice that he's leaving. Sirius is oddly silent. Celia decides to stay and listen to just the three of them for a bit, to see if anything happens. If anyone, particularly a certain someone, decides to come over to talk to her.

But nothing does happen, so she eventually flounces back to her seat (being sure to walk _very_ slowly). She sits there until the bell rings to signal the end of the study period, but Sirius never even looks her way.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Operation Remus Lupin (and the Consequences of Celia Vane's Other Intelligent Endeavours)  
**Pairing:** Sirius/Remus  
**Warnings/Disclaimer:** Refer to part one.  
**Author's Note:** This is actually one of my favourite parts. Hope you enjoy it! 

-

Remus is turning away from his bedside drawer, the worn, dog-eared copy of _Bleak House_ safe in its place, when a snarling boar confronts him for the sixth time that day. For the sixth time that day, Remus jumps, his hand leaping to his lips to stifle what could've been a dreadfully feminine noise.

"Would you _stop_ that?" he says irritably, waiting for his heartbeat to steady as James, chortling, takes off the mask and walks back into the bathroom.

"That's probably the tenth time he's done that to you," Peter estimates, nodding his head towards Remus and adjusting one side of the stake that appears to be sticking through his head. Although these kinds of costumes are generally more impressive when you're a muggle (and, therefore, not confronted with ghosts with only half of their heads on a daily basis), Peter has added realistic, gushing blood to make the costume as disgusting as possible.

James, on the other hand, looks horrific. Or rather, his mask does - and the growling, snorting sounds he's charmed it to make aren't too pleasant either. Remus isn't even sure what sort of creature it's supposed to be, but it looks like some kind of a hog with razor sharp teeth, and it's _disturbing_. Remus is, however, the only one particularly irked by it, which is probably why James has taken this as an invitation to startle him at every available opportunity.

As expected, James could not convince Lily to be his official date at the festival tonight, although he still seems to ignorantly presume that he has a fighting chance. Remus has told him, several times, that an ugly mask is not going to better his odds, but his opinion hasn't seemed to count since he took to cringing away from James' costume and trying to convince them all that bringing Firewhiskey really _isn't_ necessary (his argument being that in first year, sneaking out after dark was enough of a rebellion, but now they're bringing alcohol and the rowdiest members of their house along with them - which means that expulsion wouldn't even be _debatable_).

Remus is about to sit down (until his breathing returns to normal) when he hears James' voice echoing against the chipped stone within the tiny bathroom.

"Are you almost - whoa, you look brilliant!"

Peter immediately rushes in behind James, and after a few moments, Remus finds himself standing up to follow.

The bathroom is too small for four (nearly) grown boys to fit in at one time, so Remus leans against the doorframe, glancing curiously inside to see what the commotion is about. The commotion, unsurprisingly, is all about Sirius. As usual, he's taken a stereotypical costume and gone completely overboard - that is, to be a pirate, he has a cape, sharp hook, boots, a wide-brimmed hat, and a live parrot that seems to spew nothing but obscenities. But Sirius pauses in his pirate imitation of a pick-up line ("Wanna shiver me timbers? Prepare to be _boarded_.") when his eyes fall upon Remus.

"Well, where's your costume Moony? Weren't you going to be a ghost? We cut up that sheet for you."

Remus, feeling quite cornered, scowls and crosses his arms across his chest. "I'm not going out in public wearing linen," he argues, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling before glancing towards Peter, who he usually relies on for back-up in this sort of situation. Peter, preoccupied by the parrot, definitely has no interest in helping him out of it.

Neither, apparently, does James. "It's your own fault for not planning a costume when we told you you should."

James and Peter are then distracted when the bird suddenly bursts into a song (about wanking or something equally inappropriate), but Sirius still looks a bit accusatory. Remus frowns. "I didn't think you were being _serious_." Remus regrets his words immediately, and his glare deepens, _daring_ him to crack a Sirius-is-Serious joke at a time like this - a time when Remus is expected to _put a sheet over his head and go outside like that_.

The parrot tilts its head to the right and stares at him with gleaming black eyes. "What crawled up your arse and died?" it rudely inquires. Remus shifts uncomfortably.

But Sirius only raises his eyebrows. "Don't worry about it. Everyone's going to be in some kind of costume. They _have_ to. Or they can't drink."

"Well then, I guess I won't be-"

"Oh, you'll be drinking," Sirius interrupts. Sometimes how well he knows him is slightly unnerving. "Or you won't have any fun, will you?"

Remus shrugs and turns away to consider the sheet, lying on his bed in a crumpled heap. It isn't impressive, especially compared to Sirius' costume. It definitely looks nothing like a ghost - but, he supposes that could be seen in a sort of satirical way. James and Sirius cut the eyeholes, one of which is slightly smaller than the other, and Remus can't help wondering if that supposed to be purposeful. He wasn't ever particularly enthusiastic to go to this party, but now, he doesn't seem to have a choice. They've ruined his bedsheet.

Once upon a time, festivals may have had to do with enjoying autumn and gathering together to celebrate the harvest. Now it's an excuse to sneak out, start a fire, get hopelessly pissed, and, if your name is Sirius Black, snog someone you hardly know.

Remus has no idea how they plan to get away with this.

Actually, this is _slightly_ untrue, as he himself had a major part in organising many of the precautions to make sure that all of the seventh years know how to sneak out to the grounds after dinner, how to find the others without getting caught halfway across the grounds. But he's doubtful they can really pull it off. This is extreme, even for Marauders.

At least his sheet is a good disguise. Disguises can be useful things. Especially when you can no longer step into the library or the common room without being attacked by a mad blonde girl.

He isn't sure if she's still sore about the paper or not, but lately Caroline Vane has started tracking him down for the strangest conversations. Remus is accustomed to relating the dusty library, the smell of books and ink, to a sort of sanctuary. But when she first cornered him in the middle of _The Picture of Dorian Gray_, he started to worry he might never be able to see a stack of books the same way again.

_"Hey, you're Remus, right?" she asked, inviting herself to sit in the seat next to him, her clipboard between him and his reading._

"Yes," he replied warily. An awkward silence followed.

"What do you like to do for fun?"

"Er, what?"

"What do you like to do for fun?" she repeated.

He shifted nervously in his seat. "…Do you mean…as in hobbies?"

"Sure!" she chimed cheerfully, twisting a fair strand of hair around a slender finger.

He cleared his throat. "I…don't really have any. I mean…" Realising she seemed to actually want a real answer, he looked desperately around the library for some form of distraction. If he knew any of their names, he would have pointed out a group of girls in the corner of the library that she may have been friends with. They were all staring intently in Remus' direction, anyway.

"I do what normal people do, really. And um. Read…?" he tried. Her eyes were already glazing over. For a moment he thought she was finally going to give up, realise how useless this was, and leave him in peace - but it only got worse from there.

"Oh, okay. So what's your favourite colour? Mine's pink."

She spent almost fifteen minute asking him questions like this ("What's your favourite day of the week?" "Favourite holiday?"), but - and it didn't matter what he said - she always seemed to ignore his answers completely. And he tried_. As the conversation dragged on, he became quite sure that it didn't matter whether or not he talked about school or literature or even the meaning of life, because he'd always get the same, distant responses. He felt like he was taking a survey. Maybe he _was_ taking a survey. It was certainly a possibility - she did have a clipboard. Then again, maybe she was just trying to be friendly._

These questions were getting awfully personal.

"Who's your best friend?" she asked eventually.

"I have three," Remus said wearily (he'd given up on effort by then).

"You can't have three. You have to pick one," she insisted, and her sudden, peculiar interest caught him off guard. She was leaning forward anxiously - and for the first time since the three earliest questions, she picked up her clipboard again.

"I can't…pick just one."

"What about Sirius? What's your relationship like with him?" she pressed.

"I…"

"Do you know, does he sleep on his back, his stomach, or what?"

For a moment he was horrified, thinking he'd somehow betrayed himself, and immediately, he started gathering his books, mumbling about places he had to be, things he had to do - but then, to his relief, she shook her head quickly and stood up.

"Nevermind that. Thanks, Remus! We should do this again sometime." And with a flip of dazzlingly bright golden hair, she left. And apparently she took his book with him, because he hasn't seen it again since. And that was one of his better copies.

Remus grimaces. When he sits down on his bed, two blank eyes stare blankly back at him in the form of a cotton sheet. "I suppose I'll wear it, then."

"Good man," Sirius says, stepping into the dormitory. He moves towards his cluttered bed and starts shuffling through eye patches and robes. Remus has no idea what he's looking for.

"Sirius. We have to go now or we're not going to have the Firewhiskey in time." James checks his watch earnestly. "People are harder to deal with when they're sober."

"You just take Peter and go on ahead," Sirius says, shooing him away half-heartedly while shoving someone's book to the ground. "Remus, do you have any eyeliner?"

Remus raises his eyebrows and sighs. "I keep it with my mascara."

"I always suspected he'd be the one to ask," says James before the door closes behind him and Peter.

"Bloody hell!" squawks Sirius' parrot. Sirius doesn't seem to need a proper goodbye after this. This dormitory has probably never even heard of a proper goodbye.

"You never know," says Sirius, "I only wanted a moustache - to get into the part, you know. _Arrgh_."

Remus tries not to smile (and consequentially, fails miserably). "No moustache necessary."

Sirius pulls on the eye patch and Remus decides to stop staring at him. Instead, he sits and compulsively folds the sheet, because he can't help but be slightly nervous about this whole operation, and he doesn't know what else to do with his hands.

"Do I look alright?" Sirius asks when he's finished (which isn't actually too long after James leaves - he could've just told him to wait), grinning like he already knows perfectly well that he looks far better than just _alright_. Remus shrugs.

"I think it's ridiculous," he informs him. Then he adds, "But yeah. Everyone will love it."

"Right. Let's go then, shall we?" But instead of heading towards the door, Sirius moves to open the large, round tower window. Within seconds, a gust of cold air assaults the room (which was already _quite_ cool enough). He extends his arm, and the foul-mouthed parrot whistles and leaps off of his shoulder to soar into the night in a graceful stretch of bright feathers. Remus worries about it for a moment, but Sirius would probably only reason that if it's intelligent to curse and whistle, then it's definitely intelligent enough to find James and the others.

Then Sirius hops up onto the window ledge.

"Wait - Sirius, we're going to _fly_?" Remus asks disbelievingly. The bonfire is to be set up behind the Quidditch stands, out of sight from every castle tower and therefore primarily used only by couples on first or last days of school, when the weather is warm. No matter how inconveniently located, even Remus has to agree that it's the only place on the grounds where more than a few students can gather in private.

"It's a nice night," says Sirius simply. "Plus, James has the cloak. I don't feel like using one of the passages. Pass me the broom, would you?"

It's late October, and at Hogwarts, that means there will be snowfall in a matter of weeks, if not sooner. "No, it's _not_ a nice night," Remus, who happens to like the passages, resists stubbornly. But he still hands Sirius the spare broom he keeps in his wardrobe, and when Sirius offers him a hand to step up to the ledge, he takes it.

Remus has already edged out to the ledge of the roof (which is just wide enough to keep seventh year boys safe from behaving too perilously) when he first notices that they only have one broom. "Oh. Do you want me to get James'?"

Sirius shrugs. "We can share."

Remus gnaws his lip and stares towards the stars (because he doesn't want to look down, and he certainly doesn't want to look at Sirius). "I'm perfectly capable of flying by myself, you know," he protests feebly.

Sirius doesn't speak for a moment. Remus casts him a nervous glance, and when he finally speaks, Sirius' face is stony and his words clipped: "It's just a short ride." He slides gracefully onto the broom, and after a moment, Remus steps carefully behind him and slowly wraps his arms around his waist, all forced ease and naturalness, the sheet tucked carefully under his arm.

When he's sure it's safe, Remus closes his eyes and leans towards Sirius to breathe in, deeply. Warmth, with the scent of nicotine and rain, and Remus can't help but hug closer as the stone ledge drops away from his feet.

He's never really liked flying, but it's not so bad if he keeps his eyes closed and thinks only about the feel of the icy breeze on his face (and how cold he is, and the smell of Sirius and the terrible, torturing contact). Every now and then he opens his eyes to peak at the cold stars or try to glance towards Sirius' face (he can't really see it). He's surprised to find that he's actually disappointed when his feet touch solid ground all too quickly, the dying grass hard and cold beneath his feet.

"Alright?" Sirius asks as they step off, and Remus nods. They stare at each other for a moment.

"Put your costume on," Sirius says finally, taking it from Remus' hands and tossing it over his head.

"This isn't a costume. This is a sheet," Remus points out when he has the eye holes lined up correctly.

Sirius ruffles his hair through the cloth. "I think it suits you."

"It's because I'm so _frightening_," Remus says. He's sure Sirius can hear his grin from behind the fabric. Sirius is supposed to help James start the bonfire.

Remus is supposed to find the streamers where they're hidden in an unused broom shed. But before he goes, Sirius leans in one last time, his hand smoothing a crease in the sheet over Remus' shoulder.

-

No one cares about streamers. They're paper (orange and black, in this case). They always get torn down, and then they get wet, and because they're so thin they quickly turn into soppy pieces of degraded nothingness that everybody forgets to clean up.

Celia knows this. Remus Lupin, apparently, does not.

Celia has decided that Getting to Know Remus is simply not going to happen. He's kind, and he tries, but he's awkward around her, and a lot of time, she has no idea what he's even saying. That could be a problem. Why Sirius is even friends with him perplexes her.

So there has been a change in plan, and Celia already has a name for it: Operation Lock Remus in the Convenient Shed and Hope He Stays There. The plan is really quite self explanatory - it involves distracting Remus, using Mafalda Hopkirk's skills with locks to keep him in a rundown shed, and spending the time he's out of the way to flirt with Sirius.

It's flawless.

Remus is, fortunately, standing beside said shed when she finds him. He has some kind of white sheet wrapped around his shoulders, and his wand taps against one of the shed's many locks as he murmurs a complicated-sounding spell (all for the sake of a few streamers). When she approaches, Celia lets her shoes crunch mercilessly down on the dead leaves and tiny twigs, breaking into pieces like little split-ends, and greets him loudly to break his concentration. "Remus!"

"Oh. Hello, Caroline," Remus replies. He doesn't look all that pleased to see her. In fact, he looks more like he desperately wants to turn around and run in the opposite direction at the next opportunity. But he still has to get the door open. "You look…nice. Isn't that cold?"

"Oh, it's not too bad," she says, shrugging a bare shoulder. Truthfully, in only the long cloth ears and short, sleeveless robes (she's supposed to be a bunny, _obviously_), she would certainly be freezing if it weren't for her skills with skin warming charms, but she doesn't expect Remus to know much about those. He doesn't even seem to be wearing a costume. "Need help with that?" 

"Well," he says, glancing at her doubtfully. He taps the lock again and it clicks open. "Oh wait, I got it."

"Great," she says, stepping closer to him. Remus smiles, and as soon as he turns his back, Celia pulls out her wand.

"Expelliarmus!"

Mafalda scrambles out of the bushes to lock the door as quickly as Celia shoves it closed behind him. Unfortunately, Celia catches a glimpse of Remus' face, shocked and confused, before she closes the door - and she can't help but feel a bit guilty.

"We'll let you out soon. You were just sort of…in the way," she promises gently.

"I'm sorry, Remus," Mafalda declares loudly (which is stupid, because it's not like he can't hear her perfectly well through the thin wood), and she really looks like she is, "You're a, um. Very nice boy."

"What are you doing?" shouts Remus from the other side, "Caroline, wait-"

"My name," she hisses, "Is _Celia_." And, from much practice with silencing spells, she gracefully soundproofs the room with a flick of her wand, turns on a steep heel, and walks away with her head held high.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** Operation Remus Lupin (and the Consequences of Celia Vane's Other Intelligent Endeavours)  
**Pairing:** Sirius/Remus  
**Warnings/Disclaimer:** Refer to part one.  
**Summary:** So it turns out I can't do math. Not that this is anything new. Anyway, sorry, the last two parts are both going to be kind of short (in comparison to the megapost that was part three, anyway). And. And it's almost over now. / It makes me sad. Thanks for posting the comments, they really make my day. ) Plus, thanks to Megan (AGAIN) for betaing and helping me with Celia's lines (xD). Thanks to Natalie too for helping me de-confuse things. x)

-

Twenty minutes later, Celia is pacing back and forth in the same place that she started (by the shed, Siriusless) and trying not to throw a fit. Trying not to cry.

But this just isn't _fair_.

Her plan, so far, isn't going nearly as well as she intended it to. Maybe she should've expected this. Maybe she should've prepared a bit more. Still, she didn't expect the consequences to be _quite_ this disastrous. How could everything have gone so wrong? Instead of noticing her, instead of benefiting from his friend's absence and taking her adorable costume as a sort of hint, Sirius has only asked her, twice, if she's seen _Remus_.

Is _Remus_ wearing this cute of an outfit? _She doesn't think so_.

"It isn't your fault," Glenda reassures her as the four girls lean against Remus' dilapidated wooden shed. If only there was a girl's bathroom somewhere near the Quidditch field. "Everyone's been saying Sirius is acting strange tonight."

"It's all that stupid Remus' fault. I wish he didn't even exist," Celia sniffs.

"Shh!" whispers Agatha, who was late to the party because of a minor hair disaster. "You know he can probably _hear_ you. We didn't soundproof the _outside_ of the shed."

Celia chews her lip for a moment as she contemplates this.

"…So?" she wails finally. "I just do _everything_ wrong, don't I? _He_ didn't even know my name!" But after this exclamation Celia hushes and simply stares at the ground while Glenda, Agnes, and Marlene disperse to slouch on hay barrels leftover from the decorating. They are suspiciously comfortable with Celia's moody silence. She crosses her arms and watches them icily.

There has to be something she's missing. She has to make this work, somehow.

The boys have finished setting up the bonfire, and Celia knows (if the bright flashes of lights and carrying laughter didn't give it away enough) that they're now playing a muggle game that involves tossing everything into the fire that might cause an interesting explosion. But she refuses to go back to the festivities (drinking) until she's formulated a more intelligent plan. Because Glenda, Marlene, and Agatha are beginning to imply that they should just give up and let Remus go. And Celia Vane does not give up.

Although they might be right. Remus might need water or something.

"What _is_ this?" Agatha grimaces suddenly, holding up the dusty sheet she was about to sit on.

"Oh, I think Remus was wearing that around his neck earlier," Marlene says sulkily (probably because she didn't even know who she was locking in the shed until it was far too late, and Remus is "a nice boy"). "Maybe it's a scarf."

"But there are holes in it," Glenda observes noncommittally as Agatha stretches it out to shake off bits of hay. A piece catches in Marlene's hair, but Celia doesn't point it out to her, because Celia isn't exactly happy with anyone right now. Marlene is heading back to the castle in a few minutes anyway.

"Two," Agatha murmurs, "I guess they're for…eyes?"

"…Oh, that must be his costume, then!" Celia exclaims, suddenly quite back to her eager, cheerful self. "Ew, how unoriginal. Give it to me."

But Agatha, apparently ignorant of the importance of Remus' sheet, continues to examine it until Celia eventually stalks over to snatch it away from her.

Celia removes her fake rabbit ears and pulls the sheet delicately over her head, exceedingly careful of her hair. "Do I look like Remus?"

"You look like you're wearing a sheet," says Agatha, rolling her eyes.

"No! Don't you see? This is going to work wonderfully! First, Remus won't be mysteriously missing, because they'll think I'm him. Second, Sirius will definitely come to talk to me, and when he sees how much I have in common with his friend, we'll start chatting comfortably with one another, and it will all go _wonderfully_!" Her short speech ends on a much higher pitch than it began, and she's quite sure her voice cracked a bit in sudden hysteria.

Neither Agatha nor Glenda praises Celia for her quick brilliance, which is surprising. They must not understand. Celia clears her throat, fully prepared to give them another, more simplistic explanation.

"But won't Sirius know you're not Remus?" Agatha points out, words coated in gentle caution.

Celia huffs. "Yeah, I _know_ he'll figure it out eventually. But by then he'll already want to marry me anyway."

"Celia, I don't think-" Glenda interrupts.

Well, if Glenda doesn't _think_, then Celia definitely isn't going to explain it to _her_. "_Wonderfully_!" she repeats frantically, "This is _so_ great. Come on. Let's go."

As Celia starts to turn away, she catches Glenda and Agatha sharing an odd, sceptical look - but when Celia walks towards the bonfire, both of them still follow her.

-

Tonight, there is something different about Remus, Sirius decides.

"Do you notice anything different about Remus?" he asks James, slouching deeply in the haystack beside him.

James mumbles something indistinguishable, rolling away from him and sloshing a good deal of his Firewhiskey over his rejected hog's mask.

"The way he talks. And - and moves," Sirius cocks his head thoughtfully to the side as Remus, the ghost, sits down in a chair beside Glenda Chittock. "It's different. Look at how he's _sitting_." He wishes he hadn't told Remus to wear the sheet. He wishes he could see how Remus' hair reflects the light of the fire.

In a surprising flash of sobriety, James rolls back towards him, casting Sirius a look of utter bewilderment. "Sirius. Who the hell notices how Remus _sits_?"

For a moment, Sirius looks uncomfortable. Then he merely shrugs.

"That," he says, taking a large gulp of Firewhiskey, "is not the point."

Then James goes back to being unintelligible and mumbling garbled poetry about how Lily is so close and yet so far - the firelight in _his_ dark night.

There is definitely something different about Remus.

-

Remus can't quite believe it. He's been sitting on a crate in a shed for almost ten minutes, and he's just now beginning to understand exactly what kind of a situation he's in. So much for being good at Defence. So much for Celia wanting to be his _friend_. Of course, if he tried, it probably wouldn't be too hard to break out of the shed. The boards seem loose, but if he attempted to disassemble the shed it might collapse - or at least he wouldn't know how to put it back together again, and then, probably, they'd all get caught. He doesn't want that.

Besides, he didn't really want to go to the party to begin with, so what does it matter if he gets out or not?

On a box of streamers, he's probably as comfortable as he would be on a haystack outside - although he is a good deal colder. He doesn't have a wand - or a costume. Outside, the girls in his year (Jenna Chittock might be one of them) continue to gossip with Celia. The more he listens to their chatter, the stupider he feels. Why didn't he realise that Celia was probably in love with Sirius?

After all, who _isn't_ in love with Sirius?

In a way, he doesn't even blame her.

The shed isn't so bad, really. It doesn't seem so dark now that his eyes have adjusted, and even though it's been bolted, he can see glimpses of the distant firelight from cracks between planks of wood. If all he would see on the outside is Celia (how was he supposed to know her name was Celia?) with _Sirius_, the inside really is preferable.

No one wants his streamers anyway. Coincidentally, it turns out James also stored a bit of Firewhiskey in here, so he supposes that someone will find him when they come to find more. 

And in the meantime, well, there's plenty of Firewhiskey. Remus shifts uncomfortably (he doesn't actually have much space among all of these crates) and cautiously pries open the lid of a box.

-

"James," Sirius says again, when the sheet-garbed person suddenly turns to slap Glenda across the face, "I really think there's something wrong with Remus."

"Lily looks so pretty tonight. Don'tcha think she looks so. Pretty?" James slurs.

"I mean, why hasn't he even come over here? He's just. He's just _sitting_ there, with those girls. And he just - I think I'm going to go see what's wrong," Sirius says urgently. When he stands up, he only sways a bit. _James_, he thinks proudly, _can't even move_.

But that might also have something to do with the fact that Sirius has been too preoccupied to drink all that much. "You just stay right there. I'll figure this out."

"Gimme anuther, w'you?" James manages. Sirius doesn't answer him.

-

"That wasn't exactly nice, Celia," Agatha says, and Celia just glares at her.

"I can't help it if I can't stand her. She needs to learn when to leave us alone."

"Well - oh, oh my God!"

"What?" Celia snaps.

"He's coming over here! Sirius is coming!"

"Oh my _God_! I'm not ready!"

"Well, hurry!"

Celia closes her eyes, lifts her wand, and points it at her throat.

"Well?" Agatha asks, almost before Celia has finished uttering the voice-altering incantation. But Celia doesn't have a chance to respond.

-

There's one question Sirius can't figure it out, and until he does, he doesn't think he's going to be able to enjoy this party one bit.

_Why hasn't Remus spoken to him?_

Before he found him, Sirius was worried, but then Remus was suddenly on the other side of the bonfire; talking to people he didn't usually talk to, ignoring Sirius completely.

And for some reason, that was a bit painful. Because he's sick of _not_ talking to Remus (not like they used to). He can't quite explain it, but drinking just isn't as fun when Remus isn't there to tell him not to. And if Remus would rather spend time with girls clad in scanty robes - and _animal_ ears - then he must be upset about something. Because Sirius doesn't want to face the possibility that Remus might just like them better than him. And after staring, contemplating for a good twenty minutes, Sirius has decided that he needs to find out what's going on - that he needs to talk to Remus. Now. The only problem is that he isn't sure what he's going to say.

But he approaches Remus with forced confidence, puts a hand on his shoulder and pulls him away from Marlene a bit more roughly than he intended to. "Hey, I need to talk to you."

"Oh?" replies a quiet, strained voice, and in one glance Sirius sees that the eyes are the wrong shade of brown.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Sirius says, dropping his hand immediately, "I thought you were someone else."

"What? Oh!" the voice suddenly becomes much more cheerful and feminine, and as he's starting to turn away the girl's hand reaches out, nails digging deeply into his arm, "Nooo, are you talking about Remus?" The voice is familiar - Celia's. Which makes a lot more sense. But wasn't she dressed like a cat or something before?

"Yeah, have you-" he starts, and then he recognises the initials - _R.L._ - waving tauntingly at him from the bottom on the cloth, nearly dragging on the dusty ground below them. Suddenly, Sirius feels very sick, very angry, and before he quite knows what he's doing he's yanking the sheet of off Celia (because there was something _blasphemous_ about her wearing it) and scanning the fire circle again, his earlier anxiety back at full force. "Where did you get this?" he asks tensely.

"I found it on the - on the ground."

"Where?"

"B-by that old shed," Celia stammers. And Sirius barely has time to force a brisk thanks before turns away swiftly, stalking towards the shed he should've thought to go to from the beginning.

The hut isn't very far away, but it's been bolted. Which doesn't make any sense, because hasn't Remus already gone to open it?

Or what if he hasn't? What if he really did decide not to go to the party? What if he ran off before he even _got_ the streamers?

With shaking hands, Sirius finally unlocks the (surprisingly weak) locking spell, and before he knows it, he's opening the creaking, heavy door of the musty hut. The deep darkness is hardly penetrated by the bonfire's distant firelight and suddenly, Sirius is quite convinced that that this is all useless, that somehow, he's messed everything up (_again_). It's too late now. He's never going to find Remus.

At first he doesn't see anything in the dark, within the mountains of crates that nearly touch the sloping ceiling. Then something nudges against his leg, and Sirius glances down to see Remus - lying on the floor. He looks unscathed, aside from the fact that he's sprawled on the bottom of a shed and surrounded by bottles of Firewhiskey. He doesn't seem to see Sirius. Sirius swallows and opens the door wider.

"…Are you alright?"

-

Celia swallows and hugs her shoulders, suddenly feeling quite naked without the comforting weight of a sheet over her head.

"Well, that worked out well, didn't it?" Agatha hisses, after a few moments of shocked silence.

"…At least he didn't find out it was us."

"You don't think Remus is going to _tell_ him?" Marlene snaps, and suddenly Celia goes a bit pale.

"I guess I didn't think of that."


	5. Chapter 5

**Title:** Operation Remus Lupin (and the Consequences of Celia Vane's Other Intelligent Endeavours)  
**Pairing:** Sirius/Remus  
**Warnings/Disclaimer:** Refer to part one.

**Summary:** The last of a five part Halloween fic. Also, it's rather fluffy. I'm sorry. I could not refrain after being so mean to them for so long.  
**Author's Note:** The end. ) I really hope you all like it. Thanks so much (again) to the people who've commented. I love them all. Really. x) Also, thanks again to Megan for all of her guidance. Happy Halloween!!!

-

The door squeaks as Sirius pushes it open, and Remus squints as if the sudden light is too sudden and too bright, but really it isn't - it's even darker outside than it was before (and colder, away from the fire). Sirius' body is a rough outline against the trees and stars from where Remus lies on the shed's dirty ground.

"Are you alright?" Sirius asks, and Remus grins up at him.

"…Do you want more Firewhiskey?" Remus laughs half-heartedly, waving a half-empty bottle towards him.

"What?" Sirius is inspecting him worriedly, and as he pulls him to his feet, Remus notices he's holding Remus' sheet, his weak attempt at a costume. It must've fallen off in the scuffle.

Something about the sheet, and the fact that Remus finally has air and space, and that it's _Sirius_, here, somehow, sends him suddenly moving towards him, out into the cold air, wrapping his arms around Sirius' neck. _And tilting his head to the side_.

Remus doesn't move any closer than that. But it's still perfectly, painfully clear _exactly_ what he was about to do. His eyes lock with Sirius' for a few minutes more in dreamy, still darkness, and then Remus' arms drop clumsily from Sirius' shoulders.

"Er. Thanks. Sorry," he murmurs, stumbling backwards, suddenly dreadfully sober and without an excuse.

And then, feeling sick and horrified, Remus turns as swiftly as he can and starts walking away from the bonfire, away from Sirius.

-

"You didn't _think_ of that?" Glenda says. She must just be unhappy about being slapped. It was only a playful kind of slap, really.

"Yeah, _sorry_! I'm not perfect, okay?" Celia cries dramatically.

After an awkward pause, Glenda sighs. "Celia…I'm sorry, I think I'm going to quit this. Quit this entire club. I just can't deal with you anymore." Her voice is low and careful.

Celia blinks. Her jaw drops open. What does Glenda think she's talking about? Being dramatic and threatening to quit has always been _Celia's_ job. But as Glenda continues to stare at her sadly, one of her cheeks still slightly pink with the imprint of Celia's hand, Celia starts to realise that she's actually serious.

"...You're leaving?"

Glenda nods, her voice strengthening to a confident volume that Celia never would've expected from her. "Yeah. I think I'm going to join the James Potter club instead. I didn't tell you, but Viveca offered me the co-president position awhile ago, so…" to Celia's horror, Glenda tosses her hair over one shoulder and shrugs. "She offered Agatha a position too, so maybe she'll go with me?" she asks, casting Agatha a tentative smile.

Suddenly, the whole world has gone completely mad, but Celia is the only one who seems to notice. Sirius doesn't know who she is anymore. Remus may very well be dead. Glenda, Glenda who always doted and comforted, is threatening to leave the club - _and take Agatha with her_. They _can't_.

"I'm sorry!" Celia wails unexpectedly, desperately, "I'm so sorry I slapped you, I swear I'll make it up to you! There'll be two co-presidents in the S.B. Club from now on, both you and Agatha!"

Glenda's sighs gently, and her mouth twitches downwards. "I'm sorry, Celia."

"Okay, just you can be co-president, then," Celia decides, "Agatha, sorry, you've got to go."

Agatha huffs. "I was quitting anyway."

Celia gapes loudly, turning towards her in disbelief. "But I can't do it without you!"

-

Sirius is sick of having no idea what's going on. He's getting a head ache from the Firewhiskey, and Remus - Remus seems a bit tipsy, and now he's walking rapidly away.

Nevermind that only seconds ago, he was breathing very close to his lips, and now that he isn't, Sirius feels cold and empty in comparison.

"Remus?" he asks, stepping forward to catch his wrist before he really knows what he's doing. "Remus - you were in a shed," Sirius informs him, mostly because he's finding it hard to believe himself, "and Celia had your sheet."

Remus doesn't turn around, but he doesn't try to pull away either. Sirius can see him, half in shadow, biting the corner of his lip like he does when searching for the perfect words to begin his essays. "Did she?" Remus says mysteriously. Remus scans the ground, then reaches to pick up his wand from where it was laying - on a haystack? - and examines it with his free hand.

"_Moony_," Sirius sighs, but Remus only avoids his eyes and sighs back at him, his breath creating a small white cloud of moisture that really shouldn't be there in October. Sirius waits.

"I don't… I don't think I like Celia very much," Remus says finally.

Which, to Sirius, means absolutely nothing. "Wait - what? I don't care if you like Celia or not," Sirius insists bewilderedly, "I just want to know what you were doing in a shed."

"It doesn't matter. Can we just go?"

"It doesn't _matter_?" Sirius repeats. It's the kind of thing Remus says when he doesn't know just how stubborn he's being, because he actually thinks - Remus _actually thinks_ that he'll let it go, that Sirius can't be just as determined as Remus is. Because even though Remus practically told him (but not in so many words, because Remus is never that blunt) that he might as well leave, Sirius knows it's far too late for that.

Remus has to hear him out. After that, Sirius _will_ go, if Remus really wants him to.

_It doesn't matter_. "I," Sirius swallows, "I thought you were angry. I went to talk to you and then. And then I almost said something. But it wasn't you, Remus."

"Do you know what I was going to say?" Sirius asks when Remus remains silent. "Remus?"

"I have no idea," Remus says, but he meets his eyes this time and his head tilts back towards him, "You aren't drunk, are you?"

"No," Sirius says quickly, "Well, not really."

-

The two brunettes walk back towards the castle, and Celia hurries behind them, urgently alternating between insults and pleas.

"I can't believe you two would do this. I mean - I mean, I _don't_ believe you. Agatha, _please_!"

"Celia," Agatha sighs wearily but doesn't stop walking. "You're just being a bit extreme about all of this. And you know, it's okay to be _positive_ about our projects, but we're getting a lot of negative energy from you right now. You know?"

No, Celia does not know. Because Agatha doesn't sound like she actually knows anything about "negative energy". She sounds exactly like Celia does when she's trying to politely tell someone that they are actually a bitch. Agatha was her best friend, and now she's ganging up against her with _Glenda_.

"I just don't think all of this Sirius stuff has been very healthy for you, that's all," Agatha murmurs, quickening her pace.

"You two-faced whores!" Celia spits, completely unaware that by now she's in the middle of the school entrance hall. The other two girls turn to look at her at last.

-

Remus tries to smile, but it's a losing battle, because Sirius still won't let go of his wrist and he won't stop looking at him, either, and that's slightly a problem. At least it's dark.

"You're just, you're clueless, aren't you?" Sirius asks abruptly, "Of course you are."

"No more than you are," Remus retorts weakly, "I mean, I…" But his voice trails off and his words die in his throat because Sirius is suddenly very, very close.

"I don't like Celia either, you know," Sirius says earnestly, and Remus notices that his voice slightly hoarse, _probably_, he thinks, _probably from the Quidditch match_. Sirius seems strangely nervous, and suddenly Remus thinks he may be right - Remus probably is clueless. He's clueless about everything to do with Sirius, who has always been waning moons and dark chocolate and somehow, always terribly unreachable at the same time.

There is a smudge of coal beneath Sirius' left eye. "Oh?" Remus murmurs confusedly, but his confusion is cleared up (if only because his head goes too fuzzy) when their mouths meet, almost by accident, at first, until the intensity begins to build and Remus realises that it was alwalys, from the very beginning, inevitable.

And then he can't think about Celia or how many house points they're going to lose or how Sirius' lips don't seem nearly as chapped as his are because _he can't even think_.

And that's something he could probably get used to - as well as the hand around his waist and the rough cheeks and way Remus is nearly overcome by _heat_ -

"Get a room, you two lovebirds!" a squawking voice suddenly interrupts them, and simultaneously, he and Sirius jerk away from one another, spinning around - to see Sirius' parrot, twitching with laughter (since when can parrots laugh?) on the limb of a nearby tree. Remus was right to worry about it. It obviously isn't right in its mind.

"Sorry. Blame James. He's the one who convinced me to buy it," Sirius murmurs huskily, and with a wave of his wand the parrot disappears. Remus' face is burning, but he can't stop staring at Sirius. At first he isn't sure if it's going to be awkward or not, or if they're going to pretend that ever really happened (or if it even _did_). But when Sirius starts to turn back to the bonfire, his hand slips from Remus' wrist to hold his hand, and for the first time that night, Remus thinks that it really might all be okay.

It's almost time for the party to be over, and they pause again before returning to the others, just outside of the circle, where they can't be seen. For a moment, he continues watching Sirius (because at this point, refraining would be impossible), who looks somehow different when their foreheads are nearly touching (or maybe it's just the light). Sirius clears his throat. "Do you really need to know - to know what I was going to tell her - I mean, to tell _you_, of course -"

Remus only shakes his head and smiles. "I. Yeah. No, I know," He says, leaning in to pull Sirius' eye patch back over his eye. It might be nice to hear, sometime, but now this is new (fragile), and -

"Oh no. I forgot about the streamers," he remembers. Of course, it isn't like Remus Lupin to neglect a responsibility, however insignificant, so, still feeling giddy and completely disoriented, he drags Sirius back to the shed with him to return the hut to its proper state (that is, less of a complete disaster than Remus has turned it into).

Wet, curling streams of paper are tangled around many unopened bottles of Firewhiskey (Remus drank a lot less than he originally thought) when they return, and Remus has _no idea_ how he could've ever made such a mess. Or what was even happening in his head in the short time that he spent inside of the shed. So they tell James (after forcing a rough sobriety spell on him and whoever else is using their intoxication as a way out of work) to settle the bonfire while Sirius and Remus spend much more time than necessary in the small shed - to clean, of course.

In the end, the party ends up going over completely undetected, aside from Celia Vane and a few other girls who are caught screaming at each other at two in the morning, dressed in a fashion Professor McGonagall did not approve of - later, James claims that she had the impression that an entirely different kind of party was going on.

Celia abruptly stops bothering Remus after the shed incident, and for this nicety (and possibly because he's begun to pity her a bit), Remus never reports her doings to anyone but Sirius (who, needless to say, likes her even less now). After a few weeks in which of distance from the other girls, Celia reunites with Genna and whoever that other girl is, and they soon start holding new meetings with an unenthusiastic Lily to ask her questions very similar to the ones Remus encountered while he was being "surveyed".

After trumping Slytherin in the Quidditch match, Gryffindor only loses twenty points due to Celia's conduct. But beside their respective beds, Sirius and James each keep personal, extensive charts where they have meticulously, proudly recorded every house point they've lost since first year. They end up deciding to split twenty of Celia's lost points and add them to their own charts, as if they were the ones screaming loudly in the middle of the hall. After all, they deserve them more than Celia, really, and they would feel like failures if the staff never felt _slightly_ suspicious of their doings. 

Afterwards, even Remus decides to start a chart of his own, and Sirius shares a point off of his own chart to start him off. _Remus Lupin, -1 point for being out of bed_. He _does_ deserve it for unlocking the shed and drinking Firewhiskey, after all.

Unfortunately, Remus gains ten for answering too many questions the very next day of classes, which sets off their tallies completely.

"But I think," Sirius says one day, when going over the charts much later, they locate that nine and one under _Seventh Year, October_, "I think those were the finest points we've ever lost, don't you?"

Remus has to agree.


End file.
